


Nocturnal

by WanderingStudent



Series: Red Skies [2]
Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra, Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Asami Sato is tired, Asami gets better I promise, Badass Asami Sato, CEO Asami Sato, Canon Bisexual Character, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Red Skies Year Five, Wolfbatman AU, Wolfbatman!Asami
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-07
Updated: 2020-10-07
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:46:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26879929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WanderingStudent/pseuds/WanderingStudent
Summary: It's difficult, balancing careers as a vigilante and a corporate CEO. Asami manages. Barely. (Oneshot)
Relationships: Korra/Asami Sato
Series: Red Skies [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1961116
Comments: 3
Kudos: 34





	Nocturnal

**Author's Note:**

> (Many props to cd_fish for betaing - she's an absolute star.)  
> For context, this takes place during Year Five of Red Skies. Those of you just reading may be a little lost, but just roll with it - all will be revealed eventually! I promise.

The car lurched as Asami brought it around the tunnel’s curve. She could feel the tiniest imbalance as she drove. Underneath the mask, she frowned; the right side suspension was shot. She’d been delaying a service on the car for weeks now, and after the night’s events something had finally given. The car quickly came to the end of the tunnel, the dim light at the end quickly enlarging to a full view of the cave, cavernous and devoid of life.

Asami brought the car to a stop on top of its turntable, muscle memory cranking the handbrake as she killed the ignition. The engine’s persistent, furious growl slowly died as she lurched back in her seat, her mind racing as she ran through the repair process in her head. It’d take a few hours to complete, with no interruptions, provided she didn’t cut any corners.

A small, traitorous part of her wanted to, though. The part that was sweltering underneath all the leather and armoured, padded cloth. Her fingers tightened around the wheel as she killed that part of herself for the millionth time, and she reached up, sliding the canopy of the car forwards and letting the cave’s air in.

Asami heaved herself out of the car, landing on the turntable with a heavy _thunk,_ lacking all of the grace she’d been forcing upon herself for the past seven hours. Her belt was heavy around her waist. The suit was stifling, restrictive. The cowl was –

 _Stop being a child_ , she cursed herself.

Asami strode towards the centre of the cave, undoing the cowl as she walked. Pulling it off, she let it hang at her side. She caught sight of herself in the chromed platinum-alloy reflection of a spare car door – she looked bizarre with the cowl off.

Her head seemed slightly too small with the suit padding and disguising her body, and the cowl almost seemed like the decapitated head of some monstrous spirit, its molded features and fanged maw snarling back at her.

Asami kept walking. She came to the centre worktable of the cave, setting the cowl down on it as she grabbed one of the open files relevant to the night’s patrol. She made a few quick scribbles and abbreviations – nothing more was necessary. For all that had happened, almost nothing of consequence had been accomplished, other than wrecking the car’s suspension in a long, drawn out chase.

She looked at the small clock ticking away in one corner of the table – still four hours and change before she had to be at the office. She could put the suit away, get the car’s repair done, then head up and make nice at the office, before rattling off one of her many, many tired excuses and finding a quiet place to get a few hours of sleep.

Asami grabbed the cowl off the desk again, heading over to a separate part of the cave. Pieces of other uniforms, damaged or incomplete littered the top. She pushed most of the clutter to the side as she undid her shock gauntlets, setting them down and reaching for her kit.

The blades on the sides of the gauntlets were crusty with dried blood, and in her rush to clean them she nearly forgot to unhook the batteries. She did so promptly, tossing the burnt out cells into a nearby bin overflowing with them.

Cleaning the gauntlets normally wasn’t difficult – the blood lifted off the blades easily enough, revealing the metallic vermillion sheen of the metal. One of the blades on the left glove seemed blunted when Asami examined it closer. She sighed, turning the glove inside out so she could replace it.

She glanced around the table for a moment, sifting through the pile of spare suit parts to her side before she found a spare blade – the only spare left, it appeared. After fixing it back into her gauntlet, she scratched a mental note into her brain to machine a new batch – just not right now.

Turning her attention back to the cleaning, she began scrubbing the heavy-duty shock contacts on the knuckles with a toothbrush soaked in alcohol. The blood was lifting easily enough, until she came to the third knuckle on the right gauntlet – the mess was stubborn, refusing to lift. Asami grit her teeth, fighting back the urge to just drown the entire fucking glove in alcohol – and then maybe herself.

Soon after, the gauntlets were completely clean. She wiped the insides of them quickly, then set them aside, before removing her cape and undoing the top portion of her suit. The wine-coloured cloth stuck to her, soaked with sweat and rain, and the padded portions refused to move the way she needed to, forcing her to slowly wiggle her way out of it.

Finally, it came off, and Asami half-threw it onto the table, the cool air nipping at her skin as she checked the top over for damage. Aside from some small scorches and slashes across the wide, black chest emblem, it was mercifully free of damage. She grabbed an old, discarded shirt, tugging it on.

 _The night’s not without small mercies,_ Asami mused, before an ungodly creaking sound echoed from across the cave.

Asami turned just in time to watch the car slump to the right, the damaged suspension completely giving way with ugly, metallic noises.

The only thing stopping her from upturning the worktable in front of her was the idea of even more repair work.

* * *

Hours later, Asami was underneath the mass of the car. Parts of the turntable extended out from ground level, raising the car and allowing her to work. The damage wasn’t just limited to the right-side suspension – months of use without a long, thorough checkup and service had created a hellish amount of smaller, related problems.

Even if she managed to repair the suspension tonight – or this morning, rather, she’d still need to check nearly every other vital element of the car before she’d trust taking it out onto the streets again. Towing it over to the track level and testing it would take time that she didn’t have – she’d need to only take a few hours sleep if she wanted to get that done, _then_ repair the car further, _then_ get back out to patrol when night fell.

Asami fumbled for a socket wrench, and came up short. She sighed, emerging from underneath the car and beginning a search for the missing tool.

Ten overlong minutes later, she found the wrench hiding underneath one of her casefiles at the centre worktable. She couldn’t even remember why it was there.

As she turned back, her eyes flicked over the clock – it was already 8:30 AM. She blinked a few times, praying she was _just_ having a slight hallucination.

 _I couldn’t have taken so long and not even finished replacing the suspension. I just started._ Asami groaned, rubbing her eyes for a moment.

 _Two hours sleep_ , she decided. Time enough then, afterward, to finish the suspension, _then_ tow the car down to the test track, _then_ test it, _then_ take care of further repairs. _Then_ patrol.

First though, she needed to make a cursory appearance at the office. She spent another few minutes working her way out of the rest of her suit and dressing in something vaguely respectable, before making her way through the cave to the elevator nestled against the back wall.

Asami blindly reached for the lever to ascend, cranking it slowly as she slumped against one side of the elevator. A deep ache was settling into every muscle in her body – and sooner than usual. As the elevator ascended, occasionally shaking or jerking, she tried to settle against the railing, forcing herself to stand up straight.

Something fell in front of her face – a strand of hair. Asami reached up, one hand braced against the rickety railing as she undid the too-tight bun she’d put her hair in at the start of the night. The elevator began to slow, and as it crawled to a stop at the top of the towering shaft, her hair slowly slipped out of the bun, falling lank and greasy over her shoulders.

The elevator came to a final halt with a harsh _clunk_ , and Asami stumbled slightly at the sudden stop. In front of her, the featureless gate of the elevator retracted, grinding metal scratching at itself.

Asami let out a breath, trying to center herself as she stepped out into the darkened hallway beyond.

Minutes later, she emerged into her office, a heavy bookcase sliding into position behind her and hiding the access corridor. The curtains were still pulled, the only light coming from the few rays of sunlight able to peek through the covered windows. Asami slipped behind her desk and collapsed into the blessedly comfortable chair, old leather cradling her as she let out a pained sound.

 _I should still have a few minutes before anyone comes knocking._ Asami opened the bottom left drawer of her desk, and reached inside, producing a thermos. She uncapped it, bringing the bottle to her lips – empty.

Asami paused for a moment, confused. “Oh,” she rasped. _Right. Kya’s not here anymore._

She’d have to mix up the drink herself, she realised.

* * *

Five minutes later, Asami was sipping from the thermos and struggling not to gag. She’d had to substitute several missing ingredients, with a resulting taste so powerful that she wasn’t entirely sure it was even helping her ruined throat.

Still, the physical stress of swallowing the (cold) concoction was taking her mind off her aching joints. Asami lay back in her chair and counted down the minutes. Once the drink had done its work and her throat was a little less ragged from a night of gruff male mimicry, she could head down and clear her schedule.

Asami took another sip and ended up swallowing a particularly chunky piece of soggy seal jerky. As she cringed back into her chair, the door to her office quietly slid open. A slim, short figure, apparently oblivious to Asami sitting in the shadows, made their way to the curtains at the other side of the room.

As Asami watched them, still trying to keep the chunks of jerky down, the figure pulled the curtains sharply, letting the morning light stream into the office.

“Don’t do that,” Asami grumbled.

The figure screamed, turning around and pressing their back against the window. Said figure, on inspection, looked to be a mid-twenties woman of mixed fire-and-water descent, with a short smart bob of black hair and pale blue eyes. Asami watched her tiredly.

“Ms. Sato, I didn’t – my sincere apologies! I didn’t know you were in here,” the woman stammered, pulling herself away from the window and straightening up.

Asami simply stared back at her, and took another sip of her drink. Another chunk of wet seal jerky went down with a grimace.

“…Would you like to be alone? I’m sorry, again, I was just getting the office in order. You’re not usually in this part of the building at this hour…” the woman offered weakly.

Asami held the drink out wordlessly, and mumbled something inaudible, voice still somewhat weak.

“I’m sorry?” the woman frowned, leaning closer.

“Can you heat this up?” Asami rasped. “I don’t have a kettle.”

“Oh, of…course,” the woman responded, taking the thermos in her hands. Asami expected the woman to disappear through the doors, maybe to get a kettle or heat the drink up in the kitchens, but instead the woman simply held the drink for several moments, before steam began to rise from the lip.

Asami’s expression tightened slightly as the woman set the drink down on the desk in front of her.

“That metal might be a bit hot for a moment, Ms. Sato,” the woman supplied, in a helpful but still uneasy tone.

“…Thank you,” Asami replied, slowly. She reached out and grabbed the thermos anyway, ignoring the quiet protests of the woman as she began drinking again.

 _Not perfect,_ Asami noted, _but an improvement._

“…What are you drinking?” The woman asked, in a lighter tone. Asami locked eyes with her for a moment, before she held out the drink in offering.

The woman glanced at it, before taking it and sipping. Asami tried not to smirk at the almost immediate reaction, but she had to admire the woman’s composure – almost no retching at all.

“Quite a…unique taste, Ms. Sato. What exactly…is it?” The woman asked, one hand over her mouth as she handed the thermos back.

“It is _meant_ to be a water tribe drink. Home remedy,” Asami replied, with a little less of a rasp than before. “Restorative, cumulative, sedative, contraceptive, other words that end in ‘-ive’. Someone…else usually makes it for me, so…it’s not usually as…” Asami trailed off, looking for a word.

“Interesting?” the woman supplied.

“Chunky,” Asami responded, before taking another sip.

“Ah.”

“Does everything except my hair,” Asami mused. “Although I am missing a few ingredients. Had to use seal jerky for protein.”

“So that was the…”

“The chunks, yes,” Asami confirmed, before knocking back the last of the drink with a mighty effort. “By the way, who are you?”

The woman squeaked, before straightening up again. “I’m Naoko, Ms. Sato. I’m your secretary. Or rather, your new secretary.”

Asami frowned. “What happened to the other one? Sadamoto…Saito…something or other.”

“Sakuta? He left,” the woman – or rather, Naoko responded, brisky. “A few months ago.”

Asami blinked for a moment. “Huh.” She began to rise out of her chair, to her full height. “Well, welcome to Future Industries. It’s a pleasure to have you – on board – what’s wrong?”  
  
Naoko had taken a step back, eyes wide. “…Forgive me, Ms. Sato. You just took me by surprise.”

“What, how did I –“ Asami glanced around guilelessly, until she caught sight of herself in a nearby mirror, and actually _looked_ at herself.

She was still wearing her eyeblack, and it had streaked down her cheeks over the course of the night and early morning. Along with her lank hair and crumpled clothes, she looked half dead.

Asami swallowed. “…Could you give me a moment? I just need to…” she gestured wordlessly at her face.

“Of course, Ms. Sato – before I go, here is the day’s schedule –“ Naoko was waved off by Asami, who was already rummaging in her desk for anything resembling a makeup kit.

“I’m clearing the day, need some time to myself.”

“I’m – I’m afraid that won’t be possible, Ms. Sato,” Naoko murmured, holding out a clipboard. “One of our suppliers has insisted on a meeting about your new Ranger line of satomobiles.”

Asami rolled her still blackened eyes. “About what? We go to production in a month –“

“A week, actually,” Naoko corrected, quietly.

Asami grumbled underneath her breath, before speaking. “A _week._ What could possibly be so important at this point?”

“…Something about…tires? I think? I’m sorry, I wasn’t given all the information on it.”

“Tires? That’s already been worked out,” Asami responded, moving over to the mirror and beginning to dab away at the black makeup on her face.

“Apparently not. Mr Ikari is saying he’ll halt supplies to the production facility if you don’t accommodate his request.”

Asami froze, the makeup sponge still pressed to her face. She looked at herself in the mirror.

“When’s the meeting?” she finally asked, beginning to dab away at the makeup again. Resignation was beginning to settle in, and Asami prayed that at the very least she could get an hour or so of sleep.

“9 AM,” Naoko replied, looking down at her clipboard again. “But obviously we can’t prepare appropriately without knowing exactly what he wants.”

“They usually all want the same thing,’ Asami murmured. “More money. The only thing that changes is where it comes from.” She tossed the makeup sponge, now completely caked in black, and headed back to her desk to retrieve another one. “Still, he’s hardly the first troublesome supplier I’ve dealt with...shouldn’t take me long to straighten him out.”

_At least he has the courtesy to be early. 9 AM? I can get four hours easy._

“As you say, Ms. Sato. After that, you have an R&D meeting with –“

“No I don’t. I’m taking care of this tire thing and then I’m bailing,” Asami muttered, as she finished scrubbing her face. “If anyone asks why, you can tell them I’m busy in the workshop.”

“…I see,” Naoko murmured. “However short the meeting may be, would you like a fresh change of clothes?”

Asami looked down at her shirt, liberally stained with motor oil and sweat.  
  
“Probably for the best, actually,” she conceded. “Any recommendations?” _Kya usually handled my outfits, too._

Naoko looked her over with a critical eye, tracing the lines of Asami’s shoulders and biceps. “Perhaps something loose? We don’t want to bruise the man’s ego before you’ve even started talking to him.”

“We don’t?”

* * *

Ten minutes later, Asami was almost presentable. Her hair was still lank and lifeless, but she had successfully ditched the goth mechanic vibe, and was now dressed as was befitting a mid-twenties CEO. She was now in a familiar mood, one Kya had once dubbed ‘exhausted millionaire.’

She was sitting down in a comfortable chair at the end of a luxuriously shiny wood table, in one of their newest boardrooms. The room lacked windows, but it made up for it with a certain cozy charm – which was Asami-speak for claustrophobic.

(She liked holding meetings with Cabbage Corp representatives here – the low ceiling and tall shadows made her seem more imposing to them. If she ever wanted to end a meeting, all she had to do was roll her shoulders and send the cart-jockeys running.)

There was a new drink in her hands, an import from the other side of the spirit portals. It was sickly sweet and fruity, but it had a certain ‘zing’ to it. It had improved her mood _slightly._ Coupled with the fact that, firebending aside, her secretary was pleasant enough company, things could have been worse.

Asami glanced up at the clock, watching as 9 AM ticked ever closer. She gulped down the last of the bizarre drink, making a blind toss for the nearest dustbin.

“How was it?” Naoko asked, from one corner of the room, notepad and pen in hand.

“Drinkable. Which alone is a substantial upgrade from my breakfast,” Asami mused. “A bit sweet for my tastes.”

(She still had too much pride to openly praise something from the ‘other side’, as it had become colloquially known. Asami had mellowed on matters relating to the year’s past events, but not nearly enough to completely drop her guard.)

“I hear they have quite a few curiosities imported, Ms. Sato. Perhaps a different one next time?” Naoko offered.

“Let’s just stick with tea, for now,” Asami responded, quietly. “Keep things local.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

The minutes ticked on. Asami was beginning to sag in her chair, and the ache in her limbs was returning now that she had nothing to distract from it. The longer she stayed awake, the worse it would get – years and years of nocturnal violence had attuned her to the way lack of sleep impacted the body.

(She had of course, ignored such painful lessons time and time again, and would continue to do so for the foreseeable future.)

“What about you, Naoko?” Asami asked, quiet.

“Me, ma’am?”

“What are you up to? Besides keeping my affairs in order and clearing them when I ask?”

“Eh – not much, Ms. Sato. I’m studying World Economics at the Bay University in my spare time,” Naoko responded, perking up slightly at the show of interest.

“And?”

“It’s…going alright. The curriculum is a bit of a mess at the moment, given everything that’s happened. Many of the students think the material is going to be useless within the year.”

Asami’s face twisted in the boardroom’s low light, but she kept her tone neutral. “And what do you think?”

“Me?”

“Mm.”

“I think – it’s not all that different, surely? Human beings are still human beings, here or _over there._ And for all their differences from us, they still wake up, go to work, make money. The theories, _our_ theories are sound, and all this work isn’t useless at all,” Naoko’s answer was halting, but had a certain resolve that Asami liked. “We shouldn’t be so quick to dismiss ourselves.”

“Damn right,” she muttered, underneath her breath. If Naoko heard her, she didn’t say anything to indicate as such.

Asami glanced back up at the clock, then frowned.

9:05 AM.

“Perhaps he’s running late,” she mumbled, lifting her gaze to the ceiling, flexing her fingers to try and dispel the throbbing in her arms.

* * *

The clock struck 10:30 AM as Naoko closed the boardroom door behind her, stepping back into the dark room.

“What now?” Asami grunted, her fingers rubbing the bridge of her nose. Her eyes were beginning to ache, so she’d turned off all but one of the lights to let Naoko move about without tripping over anything.

“Apparently Mr Ikari is being held up in another meeting. He thanks you for your patience and looks forward to ‘resolving the issue in a sensible manner’.”

“That a direct quote?” Asami muttered, more to herself than to her secretary. “I’m the CEO, not a damn customer.”

In the low light of the corner, Naoko sat back down. “If you’d like, I can _try_ to get him to reschedule –“

“No,” Asami replied, sharp. “We _need_ to get production started on the Ranger line as soon as possible. This is our first big product since the tower was rebuilt, we need to get out of the red, and we need to win people back. Can’t waste any more time, especially on fu – freaking tires.”

“You designed the Ranger yourself, didn’t you?” Naoko asked, clearly just trying to make conversation. It was common knowledge that all major releases came directly from Asami’s design table – which was a half truth. Many of Asami’s cars had roots in her original Wolfbatmobiles - albeit with significant downgrades – but she’d had never been one for a straightforward design process.

“Of course.”

“…Any problems in the design process?” Naoko prodded further. Asami’s eyebrow twitched.

 _Just a few more minutes,_ she rationalised. She could entertain Naoko’s questions and then, this greasy little _fuck_ would walk in and she could take care of this awful mess before finding somewhere comfortable to collapse.

* * *

“So it turned out the cycle rate was so high, it was actually _tearing_ through the fan belt,” Asami went on, one hand making lazy illustrative gestures. Naoko seemed interested. Or perhaps she was completely lost – the pain was making it a little difficult to tell, given every other limb had chosen this moment to cramp up.

“How did you fix it?” Naoko asked.

_Bless her heart, she’s trying._

“By…lowering the cycle rate, of course.”

“Oh,” Naoko did her best to seem dully surprised.

Asami wondered if it was possible to chi-block herself, just so she wouldn’t have to feel her body tear itself apart.

“…What time is it?” There was a crick in Asami’s neck. She didn’t want to look up. Besides, that’s what Naoko was for, right?

“11:15.”

…She couldn’t chi block herself, but the sharp corner of the desk could. If she could just shimmy up and down like the world’s richest, most inventive platypus-bear, surely she could strike all the chi points?

“Ma’am?”

Maybe she should have become _Platypusbearman_. It rolled off the tongue just about as well as her actual alias.

“Ms. Sato?”

“Wha?” Asami came back to the present, eyes drifting over to Naoko again.

“If you want, I can go and see if I can find him? Maybe he got the meeting rooms mixed up?”

“Naoko, if you somehow manage to find this man, I will triple your salary for the next five years,” Asami murmured.

“That’s…generous, Ms. Sato, but that won’t be necessary.”

* * *

After Naoko disappeared, Asami finally let out an ugly, agonised sound, waiting for her muscles to stop seizing.

(It wasn’t nearly as bad as being bloodbent, but it was getting there. Slowly.)

She tried to distract herself again by running through the remainder of the Car’s repair process in her head. She only ended up frustrating herself when she realised how much work she had left to do – and then, the possibility always was that the Car would get damaged _again_ the next night, just because. 

Asami’s fingernails dug into the leather armrests, and she cursed under her breath, pressing her head back against the the chair. She was just so _tired._ Tired of fixing the Car, tired of putting on the damn suit, tired of her throat and limbs and everything just _hurting._

_I could stop, you know. I could just stop, donate money to the police force and neighbourhood watches and then I can finally rest._

For a moment, there was the phantom smell of burning flesh – strong enough to kill that traitorous thought dead.

She closed her eyes. Maybe she could sneak a small nap while Naoko found supplier-person. She was a light sleeper anyway, the noise of the doors opening would wake her up easy.

Of course, waking up required that one be asleep, and try as she might, Asami could Not. Fall. Asleep.

Even without all the aches and pains, there was still too much _going on_ around her. She could hear the shrill rings of telephones somewhere beyond the boardroom doors, the clack of shoes against the polished floor, the low _hum_ of conversations.

Asami cursed, shifting in her seat, trying desperately to let her mind drift.

It soon did.

**Sleeping on the job, Asami?**

“No, sir,” Asami whispered, nearly inaudible.

**Could have fooled me. Eyes open, Sato.**

Asami slowly opened her eyes, groaning. She stared down at her reflection in the table, blinking – for a moment it appeared porcelain white.

**You have a problem. This is no time to be delaying.**

“I’m not the one that’s _delaying,”_ Asami breathed. “It’s Ikari.”

**Semantics, Asami. You could be doing something and you’re not.**

“I have Naoko on it. She’ll find him, bring him here.”

**And I’m sure she’s doing a splendid job. Although, given the day’s current events, do you think she’ll succeed?**

“…No.”

**And why’s that?**

“…Because this shitbag mutineer is trying to get me off my game by tiring me out. Hopes he can wring whatever he wants out of the meeting when I’m half dead.”

**An ancient trick. Why are you falling for it?**

“I’m not falling for it, I’m just…sore,” Asami muttered.

**You’ve been worse than sore before. I won’t make any comment on your performance though – we both know how fragile your ego has been these past months.**

“Fragile?”

**You heard me. Unless, of course, you get out of that chair and prove me wrong?**

“You honestly think that’s gonna work on me?”

**My apologies. Clearly I expected too much of you. So, if we’re starting as we mean to go on, who should we sign away your father’s company to? Lao-Gan-Lan? Perhaps that scatterbrained redhead from the other side, I’m sure he’d be _thrilled_ to convert your factories into sweatshops – **

Asami practically _lunged_ out of her chair, staggering to her feet. Her legs screamed at her but she could barely care. The familiar pulse of low, seething rage was keeping her standing, spitting in the face of pain.

**That’s my girl. Now, go and get your house in order.**

* * *

Naoko breathed a sigh of exasperation – she’d been on the phone with this man’s secretary for ten minutes now and she couldn’t even get a location out of them. Her mind kept drifting back to her boss, sitting alone in that dark boardroom.

Ms Sato was certainly a little unorthodox, and rough around the edges, but she didn’t seem so bad. Maybe she was more conversational when she didn’t appear so exhausted?

 _Although,_ Naoko mused, _it does beg the question what exactly she does with all that time and money. This is the first time I’ve seen her since I was hired._

“ – ello? Are you still there?” The phone squawked at her, bringing her back to the present. Naoko pressed the handset to her ear again, ready for another round of circular conversation.

“Yes, I’m still here,” she sighed.

“That’s good. I’ve been told that Mr. Ikari will be with you shortly, perhaps in an hour or so.”

Naoko struggled not to sigh down the phone. “Despite the fact that he’s already over three hours late? Ms. Sato’s time is precious, she doesn’t appreciate it being wasted like this.”

“Mr. Ikari understands that – this is all just a spat of bad luck, please understand. He wants nothing more than to resolve this issue –“

“In a sensible manner, yes, I’ve heard this bit before,” Naoko muttered, glancing up at the clock on the wall, watching the seconds pass. “Do you have any more entertaining excuses?”

“I – I’m sorry, I’m only relaying what information has been told to me,” the other secretary nervously replied. Naoko felt a pang of remorse; the other woman was clearly in a similar situation to her, trying to keep everyone happy.

“No, I shouldn’t have snapped like that. I –“

Suddenly, the phone was lifted out of Naoko’s hands. She turned on the spot, a little stunned that someone had just _taken_ the thing from her – _oh._

Asami stood in front of her. She pressed the phone to her shoulder, covering the receiver. The woman was standing straighter, and there was something in her eyes – a furious look that made Naoko pause, like she’d done something horribly wrong and was about to be punished.

Except, she wasn’t looking at _Naoko,_ really. It was more like she was looking _through_ her, at nothing, as she raised the phone to her ear.

“Ikari?” Asami asked, a firmness in her voice that hadn’t been there before.

“Eh – no, I’m his secretary. Is this Ms. Sato?”

“Tell your boss that I’ve got good news for him,” Asami spoke. Naoko watched as something like amusement flashed in her eyes.

“Uh, yes?”

“He won’t need to worry about his tires on the _Ranger Offroad_. We’ve found a different supplier. Sorry that things had to end up like this, but…”

“Please wait, Ms. Sato! Let me get Mr. Ikari, I’m sure we can –“

“Deal’s almost finalised. Sorry – tell him I’ll see him at the next Auto Gala, yeah? If he can even afford to go,” Asami half-chuckled, half-hissed down the phone line, before slamming the phone down onto the the cradle with a _ding._

Naoko watched as Asami turned around, rolling her neck. Her eyes were still furious, but she was smirking to herself, as if she’d heard something hilarious over the phone.

“Ms. Sato?”

“Yes, Naoko?”

“Did you actually find another supplier?”

“Obviously not,” Asami looked at her, slightly dubious.

“Then why did you –“

The shrill ring of the telephone cut Naoko off, but as she moved to pick it up, Asami placed her own hand over the handset, shaking her head. Naoko looked at her, then back at the still ringing phone.

“Ms. Sato?”

Asami simply looked at her. The two looked at each other, listening to the phone ring for what felt like minutes. Finally, it rang off, and Asami’s hand slipped from the handset. Naoko frowned, trying to put the pieces together in her head.

“Forgive me, Ma’am – what are you going to do about –“

The phone rang again, and Asami plucked it from the cradle, pressing the receiver against her shoulder.

“Basic negotiation, Naoko. Don’t worry.”

As realisation dawned on Naoko’s face, Asami brought the phone back up to her ear.

“Ikari! Good to hear from you,” Asami chuckled. “Thought we’d lost you for a few hours there.”

“Sato, what in spirit’s name are you playing at –“

“Before you get started, Ikari – and I know it takes you a while in your old age – I’m gonna save you some time.” Asami twirled the phone cord around one finger, idle. “Tell me where in the building you’re hiding, so I can come down and we can work this out. Or, do you want to keep playing games?”

Naoko cocked an eyebrow, watching her boss listen to an inaudible response.

“I’ll be there. Do me a favour and don’t move,” Asami said, before setting the phone down again. “Let’s go.”  
  
Naoko watched her boss move past her with swift purpose and long strides, looking far removed from the lethargic mess she’d first seen that morning. She immediately snapped into position behind her, clipboard at the ready.

 _Why do I have the feeling I’m about to witness some kind of corporate murder?_ Naoko’s fingers gripped her clipboard nervously.

* * *

Asami’s shoulders pulsed with pain as she pushed open the doors to the fifth-floor boardroom, but it barely registered; she was too focused on the matter at hand. She scanned the room like she would for an assailant, or a suspicious person – and found her target.

The object of her displeasure was shorter than her by a few inches, with heavily greyed hair and a hawkish gaze hidden behind tinted glasses. Ikari had always been a thorn in her side, even when she’d been eighteen and had finally stepped back into the leadership position, but open rebellion like this was rare – at least from those who knew what Asami was capable of, who’d watched her break opposing CEOs down in debates and leave them with nothing but tears.

Asami met his gaze with her own, and felt a tiny thrill as he broke eye contact after a few seconds. She rounded the table, standing opposite Ikari.

_It’s been a while since I got to brutalise someone without using my fists. I’m gonna enjoy this._

Asami didn’t sit. Instead, she simply placed her hands on the back of the nearest chair, leaning forward slightly and watching Ikari with a neutral expression. Behind her, Naoko stood.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you here since we finished the tower,” Asami mused, eyes still locked on her opponent. “What do you think? You’ve had more than enough time to have a look around.”

Ikari barely reacted, aside from a slight curl of his lip. “It seems…sturdier than the last one.”

“I would hope so,” Asami responded. The minor remark only kept the anger in her stomach bubbling, but she kept her focus on Ikari, on winning the debate and taking care of things _cleanly._ “I spent enough time on the architecture.”

“So I’ve heard. I’m sure it was expensive,” the man responded.

“Cheaper than you’d think,” Asami replied, eyes narrowing. “The real cost in a project like this is time.”

“Which you must have plenty of.”

“Oh?”

“You haven’t seen me since you completed your new building – has it occurred that I haven’t seen you for longer? Have any of your business partners?” Ikari fired the first real shot of the conversation. Asami’s expression flattened, but didn’t betray any emotion.

“I’ve been busy with vital projects. Our R&D department is obviously still being rebuilt, I’ve had to shoulder a little extra work,” she offered. “Can’t be helped, but it is worth it.”

“Worth it…worth it,” Ikari repeated the words, like he was examining their taste or searching for some deeper meaning. Asami watched him carefully.

“You’re speaking about worth, about vital work and well-spent time. It’s very grown-up of you,” Ikari said, tone placid. “Your parents would be proud.”

Asami didn’t reply, but kept her expression placid. She imagined dangling Ikari off the roof of the tower by his skinny ankles.

“However, I’m finding it difficult to come to the same conclusions,” the man continued. “This new Ranger line is a fine piece of work, to be sure – but why would I offer my business to this company when there are far more lucrative ventures just over the horizon?”

“I’m afraid I don’t take your meaning, Mr. Ikari,” Asami replied.

“Understandable. You’ve been out of the office for a while, it’s only natural you’d miss out on this kind of news,” Ikari said, his gaze insufferably superior.

Asami wanted to break his fingers. Instead she looked around for a moment, shrugging. “I assume you’re going to tell me? Or do you want to make me wait another three or four hours?”

Ikari smirked, before speaking. “It’s no secret that Future Industries has been…a little stolid in recent months. Our world has changed so much, and companies all around the world are changing to meet new demands – except you.”

Asami’s grip on the chair tightened, the leather creaking quietly.

“Varrick Industries recently proposed the creation of a…guild of sorts, to regulate discussion and business relations with companies from the other side. They can already promise us contracts with some very, _very_ impressive companies. Initial dialogue with extranational firms has been promising, to say the least.”

 _Traitor,_ Asami wanted to hiss.

“Our company understands, of course, the value of our long business relationship with Future Industries, and we don’t want to see that go to waste,” Ikari went on.

 _Here it comes,_ Asami thought. _Here’s what he’s so desperate to sell me on. What was worth all this fucking hassle?_

“We are willing to supply the necessary materials for the _Ranger_ _Offroad_ , all the way through to the fourth quarter of next year. However, we’ll have to insist on an exclusive contract for the _entirety_ of the Ranger line, as well as any future consumer grade Satomobiles you may manufacture in the future.”

Asami was flitting between anger and amusement so quickly she struggled to keep a straight face. She must have failed, because Ikari gave her a bemused look. She schooled her expression into something tight and inpenetrable.

She wanted to bellow, howl, cry, scream, _something_ to release this terrible pressure building up inside her.

Releasing her iron grip on the back of the chair, Asami stepped away. She could feel Ikari – and Naoko too, for that matter – watching her every move. Slowly, she stepped across the expanse of the boardroom to the expansive windows on the other side.

The window offered an expansive view of the city, spreading out into the bay area. Asami’s eyes travelled the length and breadth of Republic City in a matter of seconds. She looked over the slums, the downtown area, the docks – before pulling her gaze out across the bay.

In the middle of the bay, the hollowed remains of Air Temple Island and Aang Memorial Island stood, ever-present and perpetually decaying. Asami leant forward, resting one hand on the glass as she squinted.

Around the ruins of Air Temple Island, she could make out tiny flits of motion and mismatched dots of color. The so-called New Air Nation, spiralling through the sky on shoddy replica gliders. Asami watched them fly about for what felt like minutes.

Legally speaking, they shouldn’t even have been there; even after the White Lotus vacated the city they’d had the two islands declared private property and locked off to the public. _Looks like the RCPD_ _has bigger problems to worry about these days,_ Asami mused.

“Ms. Sato?”

Perhaps the island’s new occupants felt they were owed the land? Perhaps as spiritual inheritance? Yes, that line would play well with the public. _Sacred ground_ , nevermind the fact that day by day, they were vandalising and tainting what had been left by the previous occupants with their own so-called _culture_ and _art._

(Asami had been on Air Temple Island so many times before it fell. The younger her had thought a place so steeped in bending and its innate privilege would be repulsive - she couldn't have been more wrong. Even though the walls had been high, and the guard towers higher, the peace of that island and the kindness of its occupants had made her feel like there was some kind of logic to the world around her. That one day, things _would_ get better.)

(Of course, that never lasted. That island, that family had been _shattered_ by the whims of greedy, hateful men. This entire _city_ had been torn asunder by hate.)

(That same hate pumped through Asami’s veins. It was coaxing her to lunge back across the table and tear _this_ greedy, hateful man apart.)

Asami took a deep breath, eyes drifting to the ruins of Avatar Aang’s statue.

“Ms. Sato?”

(She remembered long nights with Jinora and Kya. When cases had gone cold, when the wounds were too deep and the evils seemed insurmountable, Jinora had pulled her aside to meditate.)

(She remembered the smell of incense and the mild summer wind blowing in from the Cave’s cavernous tunnels. She remembered listening to Jinora’s voice, eyes shut, hearing Kya prepare tea and small meals somewhere in the background.)

(She _tried_ to remember the clarity and focus those moments had given her. The brief snatches of light illuminating the endless dark, making her path obvious and clear.)

(She imagined that light washing over her now.)

Asami’s clenched fists slackened at her sides. She exhaled quietly.

Turning around, she locked eyes with Ikari, advancing on the table once more.

“That’s very interesting, Ikari. And I’m flattered, really, that you felt you had at least extend me the offer before you turned tail and ran,” Asami smirked. She felt a year younger and _completely_ in control.

“Beg your pardon?” Ikari quirked an eyebrow.

“However, in telling me, you’ve made something of a mistake,” Asami continued, beginning to walk down the length of the table towards Ikari. “Because even though Varrick and his cronies have let you into their little boys club, they clearly haven’t told you everything. Or they’re just too stupid, which let’s face it, is a _real_ possibility.”

Ikari opened his mouth to get a word in, but Asami cut him off.

“Now, I’m not calling you stupid, because you obviously know I don’t respond well to baseless bluffs,” Asami held her hands out, like she was trying to empathise with the man instead of ruin his business strategy. “So I can only assume you’re the victim of misinformation.”

“And you’re going to _inform_ me, Sato?” Ikari interjected, dubious.

“More like _correct_ you,” Asami shrugged, fingers tracing the length of the table as she advanced on Ikari. “You’re going off of the false assumption that there’s real business to be had with the other side at present. However, if you were paying attention, as opposed to doing Cactus bodyshots - or whatever desperate old men do to feel young these days – you’d know that recently, the United Republic finally came into parity with the rest of the Nations in their Extranational Export and Import Legislation.”

Ikari glared at her silently.

“I’m gonna take your silence to mean that you want me to fill you in? No problem, I’m _generous_ like that. It _means_ , in the simplest terms, that outside of food, textiles and other…curiosities, no industrial or technological exchange can take place either way until the transaction has been vetted by both side’s ruling parties. That also extends to any kind of _business_ transaction. And _yes_ , that does include meetings.”

Asami bore down on Ikari like a hungry predator stalking its shaking, decrepit prey.

“Now, you’ve told me that Varrick has actually been _talking recently_ with companies from the other side. Taking into account that the Council takes _months_ to approve an arrangement like that, I therefore, have to make one of two conclusions. One – that he or his associates have been moving incognito, under the guise of a regulated excursion through one of the _three_ controlled spirit portals, and holding business negotiations on the other side. _Somewhat_ illegal.”

Asami towered over Ikari. She could taste victory on her tongue. That, or the seal jerky was making an unexpected, tangy comeback.

“Two – that they, and their presumed extranational associates, are making use of one or more _undiscovered_ spirit portals, most likely somewhere in the Demilitarised Earth Terrorities. _Extremely_ illegal,” she continued.

Behind her, at the far corner of the room, there was a knock at the door. Naoko moved to answer it, discreet. Asami paid it no mind, she had a fish to finish frying.

“So, let’s recap. You came here to _rob_ me, Ikari,” Asami murmured, eyes boring into the older man’s. “But all you’ve cost me is sleep. Instead, you’ve as good as given me proof that you’re party to criminal conspiracy.”  
  
She could almost _see_ the man’s confidence leave him, like a balloon deflating. _Not a bad metaphor,_ Asami thought to herself. _Considering the amount of loose skin._

As she waited for Ikari to form a reply, she glanced back, looking for Naoko. Her secretary was in hushed conversion, speaking to persons unseen beyond a crack in the boardroom doors.

Asami turned back to her prey. He hadn’t said a word, but his body language spoke volumes; in that he couldn’t figure out what to say. It was always _so_ refreshing to put these mutinous rats in their place – but she decided to indulge herself a little further.

“Come on, Ikari. You were so talkative a minute ago,” she taunted. “Or are you planning on drawing things out for another few hours?”

Ikari’s eyes snapped up to hers, his face twisted with spite. Asami could see him trying to form words, turning them over in his slow, decrepit brain. She stood over him in silence, waiting.

Ikari broke eye contact, looking down at the floor. She smirked and turned away, moving towards Naoko.

She almost missed the vindictive whisper.

“Equalist _bitch._ ”

Asami’s composure splintered. Part of her thought it was pathetic, rising to a single insult. Another part of her hissed that it had been hours, days, _years_ of nothing but insults, pain, futility. Her anger was like a crimson wave, washing away the fragile foundations of her posture and swagger, staining her vision red.

She turned back to him, sighing and running a hand through her hair. “I take it back,” she murmured.

“What’s that?” Ikari asked, icy.

“You _are_ a fucking idiot.”

Asami lunged at the man.

At the same time, the doors of the boardroom burst open, punctuated by a soft yelp from Naoko. Asami caught herself just short of throttling the man, her hands inches from Ikari’s throat. She dropped her hands to her sides, turning.

_Oh._

Vivid blue eyes locked onto hers. Asami suddenly felt incredibly self-conscious, taking several steps back from Ikari. She glanced back at him for a moment – he was terrified, eyes blown wide as he tried to disappear into his chair. She didn’t have time to savour it, though.

“Asami!”

Korra strode into the room like it wasn’t occupied by two CEOs. Her hair had been done up in a water-tribe style ponytail, but she was wearing distinctly unfamiliar clothing – faded blue pants of a rough, sturdy fabric and a red and yellow jacket with extranational lettering on the left breast.

(Asami hadn’t bothered to learn any of their languages yet. Of course, it was simply because there were so many and she hadn’t decided on a good starting point yet. To suggest that she hadn’t because she didn’t want to acknowledge them at all was _completely_ ridiculous.)

“Everything alright?” Korra asked, looking between Asami and Ikari. Asami felt funny; her mood had suddenly slingshotted from furious anger to a kind of bashful surprise.

Honestly, it made her feel a little queasy. _Although_ , she thought, that could be the seal jerky again.

“Mm,” Asami nodded stiffly. “I mean, yes – we’re just finishing up here.”

She snapped her gaze back to Ikari, indicating the door with a tiny turn of her head. The man practically sprinted out of the room.

_Pretty sure that’s the fastest I’ve ever seen him move –_

Korra was _right_ in front of Asami. Her hand was on Asami’s arm and she was looking up at her with those _blue_ eyes.

“Are you okay?” Korra asked, voice gentle.

_“Buh.”_

“Come again?”

“I’m – I’m fine. Just a bit of corporate discussion,” Asami murmured. “Why?”

“Because you look like a deer in headlights,” Korra replied, smirking slightly. “An _angry_ deer in headlights.”

“…Surely you mean, Cat-deer?”

“Oh, give it a rest,” Korra sighed, arms looping around her waist. “I missed you.”

The pounding fury inside Asami ceased almost instantly, replaced by the sensation of butterflies in her stomach. Korra leant her head against Asami’s chest and the butterflies decided to throw a rave inside her gut.

Asami felt her hands move, one to the small of Korra’s back, the other to tangle in her hair. She buried her face in Korra’s hair, breathing deep, feeling all the aches and pains fuzz over –

She realised they were not alone. Silently, she looked up, cheeks blazing red.

Beside the door, Naoko was watching them. Her expression was infuriating; her eyes were bright with amusement, but her mouth was a too-tight line, like a kid struggling not to laugh in class.

Asami stared at her.

Naoko’s lip curled into a tiny smile.

Asami kept staring. Naoko got the message, and slowly backed out of the room, with a shit-eating grin on her face. The doors shut quietly behind her.

Asami turned her attention back to Korra, who was looking up at her again.

“Hey,” Korra murmured.

“Hey?” Asami echoed.

“You kinda smell like shit.”

“ _Guh.”_

* * *

One shower and _another_ change of clothes later (into something a little more discreet) Asami found herself walking down the street outside the tower. She fiddled with the sleeves of her jacket – an old, worn thing of black leather with a popped collar that hid her face well. In front of her, Korra walked, hands shoved into the pockets of her own jacket.

The streets were oddly quiet, even though the workday wasn’t over yet. This meant that Asami could slouch a little, shoulders drooping as she followed Korra. Her eyes drifted up to the sky – it was a rich, cloudless blue. The tall shadow of the tower behind her hid the sun, dimming her surroundings – but only just.

She dropped her gaze down again, and her eyes locked onto something else- a pillar of bright yellow light, reaching up into the sky. Asami couldn’t see the point of origin from here, but she could picture it; a bustling centre of activity in the middle of City Park, surrounded by tourists, cops and merchants.

Before Asami could spend any more time brooding on the portal or what lay beyond it, she stepped out of the shadow of her tower. The street around her was thrown into harsh relief, the colours popping. She squinted at the sudden change, looking down again at the street, at Korra.

Korra, who had stopped and was looking over her shoulder at Asami, eyes searching.

Asami felt her cheeks heat again and sped up, quickly coming alongside the other woman.

“Thought we lost you there,” Korra murmured, looking ahead again.

“I’m good,” Asami replied, stiff as she willed her blush back under control.

“Hmm.”

Asami felt warm pressure on her hand – she glanced down and saw Korra lacing their fingers together. She looked back up, meeting Korra’s eyes, taking in her shy smile.

(The sight was like a cool wave, washing away everything but thoughts of _her._ )

“Where are we going?” Asami asked, almost inaudible.

“Oh, I found this little place just a few minutes away. You’re gonna like it, trust me!”

 _Food_ _then,_ Asami mused. She certainly wasn’t opposed; as _chunky_ as her breakfast had been it had done little to alleviate the hunger pangs – another unfortunate consequence of her lifestyle that had become more prominent as of late.

Minutes later, the pair found themselves at the door of a small restaurant. By the size of it, as well as the homespun look, Asami guessed it was a small family establishment. As they entered, the door _chimed_ , and the server at the tiny front desk – a tired looking man in a slightly stained uniform - turned to face them.

His face immediately lit up with awe, and he rounded the desk, coming up to the pair and shaking slightly.

“A-Avatar Korra! We didn’t expect – I mean, it’s an honor, of course. What can we do for you?” The man was practically vibrating, fawning over Korra. Asami rolled her eyes like she hadn’t spent the last five minutes doing the same.

“Just a table for two, if it’s alright?” Korra had a sheepish look on her face. The man responded with a low bow. Asami watched with a mix of amusement and pity as Korra tried to placate the man.

Eventually, the two were led to a table. Asami appreciated the choice of restaurant, practical as ever - hidden well enough that Korra wouldn’t be swarmed by a gaggle of paparazzi, and dim, cosy light that was easy on her tired eyes. 

Asami let Korra pick both of their meals, mainly because she was suddenly so desperate for food that she didn’t care what form it came in. (She doubted she’d be able to get a word in regardless, what with the way the waitstaff were cooing over Korra.)

Soon though, they were finally left alone to eat. Asami was hungry, so she wasted no time in putting away an impressive amount of food – but in the time she took to finish off her starter Korra had gone through a full family platter and two meat dishes. It was bizarre, and – _funny,_ she realised. She actually had to _fight_ the urge to giggle.

Minutes later they were sharing a bowl of dumplings, fresh and steaming. Asami watched as Korra hoovered down _four_ dumplings in one go - her lips were curving up, and for once it wasn’t into a smirk.

“You’re making that face again,” Korra grinned.

“Wha?” Asami swallowed, trying to force a deadpan look.

“That face where you’re trying to do anything but smile.”

“I’m just eating,” Asami muttered, taking the last of her dumpling in her mouth and chewing slowly, careful with her expression.

“It’s good, right? We have stuff like this back home but this –“ Korra slurped the soup out of one dumpling, earning looks from the nearby server, “is something else. I figure the ingredients you guys use must be a little different or something.”

“Mm,” Asami gave a noncommittal reply. It was almost 4 PM now, and she felt heavy with good food and fatigue. Korra was keeping her awake by virtue of just being Korra, but she could feel her eyes drifting shut. She put one hand on the table, partly to ground herself, partly to stop her from slumping facefirst into the remains of her lunch.

Asami felt Korra’s hand slide over hers, thumb brushing over her knuckles.

“You’re exhausted,” she heard Korra say.

“M’ fine,” she murmured. “Just tired.”

“I’ve seen you tired. You are _exhausted_.”

Asami grunted, before straightening up in her chair a little. Across from her, Korra frowned, before flagging the nearby waiter down.

“What’re you doin’?” Asami asked, rubbing at her eyes.

“You need sleep, ‘Sami.” Korra fished in her wallet for a too-large yuan note, handing it to the waiter, before moving over to Asami’s side of the table. “Come on, let’s go.”

“Nnn,” Asami had slumped down, resting her head on her crossed arms.

“Come _on_. You need to tell me where to go, otherwise I’m gonna have to take you back to my hotel and Lois is gonna talk your ear off and you’ll _never_ sleep.”

The vague threat was enough to get Asami on her feet, shuffling to Korra’s side as they left the restaurant. “Just back to the office. I have a cot.”

Asami was thankful that the tiny restaurant was so close to the Future Industries Tower, because within seconds of leaving, they’d already attracted a small crowd, following a small distance behind them. They were obviously more of Korra’s admirers, desperate to catch a glimpse of her, of her clothes, of _anything_ that gave them more of a look at their newest celebrity fascination.

(Asami felt underwhelming walking beside her. Her black jacket was drawn up tight around her face and her hair was still a lank mess, but even if she’d bothered to properly present herself it still wouldn’t have compared.)

(Korra had an effortless presence about her – maybe it was the allure of the Avatar, of her strange circumstances, or her unfamiliar clothing, but she drew the crowds. When she spoke, two worlds listened.)

(Meanwhile, Asami was struggling to keep a few troublesome businessmen in line, and all of her money, all of her red-hot _rage_ couldn’t do a damn thing to stop them from causing trouble.)

Something must have been showing on her face because she felt Korra looping their arms together, hugging Asami close as they walked.

(Asami would gladly endure her bruised ego for an eternity if she got more moments like this.)

* * *

The moment they entered the lobby of the Tower, the crowds parted before them.

“Does this happen _everywhere_ you go?” Asami mumbled.

“More often than I’d like,” Korra replied, as the two of them headed towards the nearest elevator. “I just put on a happy face.”

“Sounds exhausting.”

“You say that, but you keep getting that dumb grin on your face,” Korra muttered, as they slipped into the elevator, the doors closing behind them. “And there it goes,” she chuckled, watching Asami school her face back into its natural, implacable glare.

As the elevator began its ascent, Asami felt the need fill the silence. “So…how’s your grand tour coming along?”

“It’s going good. It’s…it’s alright,” Korra said, suddenly ambivalent. “I’m actually taking a little bit of a break soon, though.”

“Oh?”

“I just…I wanna be somewhere where I’m not swarmed by crowds or politicians or journalists –“

“Aren’t you travelling with one?” Asami asked.

“Lois is a _friend_. And she loves all of this, she really does – but she lives for stories. I _need_ a break.”

Asami couldn’t remember the last time she even thought about taking a break, or a vacation, or a _holiday._ Of all the things that needed done, doing _nothing_ was low on her list of priorities.

“Mm.” Asami grunted in what she hoped was understanding, as the elevator finally reached the top floors.

The floors were blessedly empty, aside from a few scattered workers. The executive levels of the tower were always deserted at this hour, and Asami was thankful, because she didn’t need any other overpaid septuagenarians getting a look into her private life.

Belatedly, Asami realised that Korra was leading the way to her office without any directions. “…How do you know which way to go?”

“I came up here looking for you before I found your secretary,” Korra replied.

That brought up another question. “…Why? I mean I’m glad you did, but –“

Korra gave her a look, frowning. “…Because we made a date? You didn’t show this morning. I thought something might have happened with your…other job, so I came to check up.”

A familiar shame crawled into Asami’s stomach, and she looked away from Korra for a moment.

“…Sorry. It’s – things are -“

“Look, you don’t need to make excuses,” Korra’s tone was understanding and warm, but Asami could hear just a hint of exasperation. “I know you’re gonna have trouble keeping dates with everything you’re up to.”

“I’ll be better. I – I promise,” Asami murmured, as they came to the door of her office. “The last few weeks have been…rough.”

“Asami, it’s _okay._ Come on,” Korra pulled her gently into the office, clearly wanting the conversation over. The door clicked shut behind them, and Korra let go of Asami’s arm as she searched for another door. The sun was already setting low across the bay, dim orange light shining in through the window and painting the room in tall, cavernous shadows.

“This place is so dark…would it kill you to have a few more lights around here?” Korra mumbled, more to herself than to Asami.

“Helps me think.”

“If you say so – _here we go._ ”

* * *

Korra’s hand closed around a doorknob, hidden in the darkness. She pushed in, and the door opened up to a small, spartan bedroom without windows. Korra stepped in, the sunset’s dim light streaming in behind her.

There was almost _nothing_ personal in the room. The bedsheets were gray, the frame was wooden but unadorned, and the only other piece of furniture was a bedside table with nothing but a tiny lamp on top.

Korra examined the bed closer, frowning. It had been made to military standard, with few crumples or creases to be seen. She had the sneaking suspicion Asami hadn’t slept in this bed in a _while._

“Well, it’s not that cozy, but it’s a bed,” Korra turned, making her way back into the office. She frowned; she couldn’t see Asami anywhere.

“Asami?”

Korra heard light breathing somewhere in front of her. She squinted, bringing up a hand to block the sunlight from the window, then looked ahead.

“ _Really?”_

Below the window, Asami was laid across a long, plush couch, in what looked like the most uncomfortable sleeping position ever. Her face was half-buried in one of the throw pillows, her left leg and arm were dangling over the side of the couch, and her right arm was trapped underneath her bulk.

Korra was of half a mind to move her to the bed, but she caught herself staring. She ended up on her knees, arms crossed on the edge of the couch. Carefully, she reached out, brushing a few strands of hair away from Asami’s sleeping face. Her lips were parted, her expression slack.

 _Probably the first time I’ve ever seen you sleep,_ Korra thought. She wanted to help Asami out of her jacket, her boots, just to make her a little more comfortable – but the last thing she wanted to do was disturb her. _Also, I’m pretty sure she’s already drooling._

As the minutes passed, and Korra watched Asami sleep, her mind ran wild. For every day that passed, her trip to the South Pole grew closer, and the closer it got, the more _real_ it got. The idea of meeting her _birth parents_ , the ones who had sent her away, given her up, saved her – it filled her with a dreadful mix of anxiety and excitement.

She’d already decided that she wouldn’t take Lois – for all that the older woman had helped her, this was one thing she _had_ to do without the reporter.

The idea of doing it alone, though – that was _terrifying._

She wondered if Asami would say yes, if she asked. If Asami even _thought_ they were at that point in this relationship – if she would even call it that. Neither of them had given it a label, and honestly, Korra would rather Asami take the initiative. She was happy to move at Asami’s pace, which was a bit slow – but Korra could _do_ slow, after the year she’d had.

Still. The trip was getting closer. And the more she thought about it, the more she thought about Ma and Pa, back home, _abandoned._ A few phone calls didn’t make up for all that time away, but all these commitments, all the _conferences_ and _trips_ and _crazy-fucking-spirit_ stuff was crushing her.

Korra closed her eyes, burying her face in the couch cushion for a moment.

She _needed_ to know. She _needed_ something concrete to hold on to.

She _needed_ Asami.

Asami, who had forgotten about the date Korra had spent weeks looking forward to.

Asami, who she’d seen lunge at a defenceless man only an hour or so ago.

Asami, who she _knew_ was hiding so much baggage, so many dark secrets.

Asami, who slept like a dork.

Asami, who held her like precious treasure.

Asami, who smiled only for her.

Opening her eyes, Korra looked at the sleeping woman in front of her.

 _Tomorrow,_ she thought. _Tomorrow, I’ll ask her to come with me._

Korra felt a yawn building. She’d had an early start this morning, and she doubted anyone would disturb Asami so late in the day – surely she could get a bit of a nap as well?

She looked around, eyes locking on a plush chair in another corner of the office, before shrugging out of her varsity jacket and slinging it over her arm. She turned back to Asami, still sleeping.

“Sleep well, ‘Sami.” Korra whispered, kneeling down and pressing a tiny kiss to her girlfriend’s head.

Minutes later, Korra was curled up in the corner chair, jacket awkwardly draped over her as she drifted off, falling asleep with the sun.

* * *

Asami woke up feeling refreshed. Granted, her hair still felt like a matted mess, but the lack of debilitating cramps or crushing fatigue afforded her a level of focus she’d almost forgotten she could have.

Slowly, she rose, stretching and grunting as she worked out the kinks of sleep.

 _Spirits_ , Asami thought, relieved. _I needed that._

The first thing that stood out to her though, was that there was no light shining through the window. Asami frowned, looking out over a Republic City that was very much in the middle of the night.

_Shit. Looks like I’m taking the Bike, then._

The second thing that stood out was the sound of snoring. Asami turned, eyes locking to the chair in the corner of the office.

Korra was curled up, fast asleep in the comfy chair Asami kept reserved for…nothing in particular. It was a piece of rich-CEO décor she’d never been able to justify a use for, especially since she had the good ol’ couch.

 _Well, it’s Korra’s chair now,_ Asami decided. _Although I can’t exactly leave you there._

Almost as if in answer, Korra let out a loud snore. Asami rolled her eyes and prayed that the Avatar was a heavy sleeper.

A few moments later, Asami had Korra in bridal-carry, slowly carrying her through the door to the tiny bedroom attached to the office. Even though the smaller woman was built, Asami managed easily.

Walking over to the side of the bed, Asami crouched down gently, to set Korra down on the bed so she could draw back the covers –

Korra murmured something unintelligible, and grabbed for Asami blindly, nuzzling against her. Asami froze, cheeks blazing and heart hammering.

Minutes later, Asami was still crouched beside the bed, Korra nuzzled against her. There was little to no risk of Korra waking up, but still – Asami couldn’t bring herself to move.

That traitorous voice was back, whispering in her ear. It would be _so easy_ to just set Korra down and crawl in beside her, and disappear back to sleep, then wake in the morning and just _live._ Maybe she’d be able to make her way through a day of CEO work without wanting to rip someone apart.

Maybe she’d be able to make this temporary bliss something permanent.

_Maybe._

Asami turned her head, looking back out at the office, at the window and the midnight city beyond.

_Maybe not._

Slowly, _painfully_ , Asami eased Korra off her and into bed, drawing the covers over her. It was like tearing off her own arm. She watched Korra frown and curl into herself, and for a moment Asami was terrified that she’d wake up – but soon she was sleeping soundly.

As soon as she was sure Korra was asleep, Asami left, shutting the door quietly behind her. She made her way out of the office, and looked around for a few minutes, exploring the empty executive floor. Soon, she found Naoko, herself asleep in a chair outside her own office.

“Naoko,” Asami said, voice firm.

“Oh _agni –“_ Naoko jerked awake, looking about wildly for a moment before her eyes settled on her boss. “M-Ms. Sato. My apologies, I was just…” Asami watched her secretary stammer and shift about awkwardly, trying to make excuses or compose herself.

“Relax, Naoko,” Asami murmured. “I just woke up too.”

“O-oh,” Naoko breathed. The tension visibly left her, her shoulders slackening slightly as she relaxed.

Suddenly, her head jerked up again, and Naoko began to pat herself down. Asami watched, face impassive as her new secretary began to play a drum solo on herself.

Naoko finally produced her notepad from inside her jacket – now just a touch crumpled.

“Mr Ikari’s secretary called – she let me know that Ikari is willing to adhere to the terms of the original contract,” Naoko rattled off the details, slipping back into assistant mode. “So, we won’t have to worry about any more delays on production.”

“Hmm.” Asami nodded but didn’t speak beyond another grunted acknowledgement. Even though the concession was a relief, she was annoyed that it was _all_ she was getting. If she hadn’t lost her temper and tried to assault him, she would have had valuable blackmail material on Ikari – material she could have cashed in if he got any more big ideas.

Instead it was a stalemate, little more than mutually assured slander.

 _That problem is solved. Move on. Besides, I have other priorities._ Asami’s eyes snapped up from the floor to focus on Naoko. “I need you to do something for me.”

“Something?” Naoko arched one curious brow.

“Avatar Korra is asleep in the office bedroom. She’ll probably sleep through to morning,” Asami said, pointedly ignoring the way Naoko’s eyes had blown wide. “When do you start?”

“Eight. AM, I mean.”

“Now you start at half-six.”

“I – May I ask why?” Naoko spluttered as elegantly as she could manage.

“I need you to be there when she wakes up. Make _sure_ she gets back to her hotel. If she wants something to eat or drink, make _sure_ she gets it,” Asami’s voice was only a _little_ tight.

She could already see the unspoken question on Naoko’s face. _Isn’t that your job?_

“Please,” Asami added. She hoped it didn’t come across half-hearted.

After a moment’s pause, Naoko nodded slowly. “I’ll take care of her.”

“Thank you.”

“May I ask, Ms. Sato, where _you’re_ going?”

Asami expected the question. She gave the expected answer.

“I have work to do.” She was already walking away, back towards her office.

* * *

Asami shut the door behind her, and strode towards the large bookcase against the left wall. She pressed forward against a pristine hardcover of _Love Amongst the Dragons,_ then against a dogeared copy of Councilman Sokka’s _Battlefield Innovation._ Mechanisms behind the bookcase _clicked,_ before the entire thing began to slide to the side, revealing the dimly lit access corridor down to the cave.

She looked back at the door to the bedroom, lingering.

_I will try to be better. You deserve at least that much._

_I will **try**._

Silently, Asami stalked down the access corridor, the bookcase closing behind her as she descended back into darkness.


End file.
